


Heart of Gold.

by madame_alexandra



Series: Identity Peripheral Works [14]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: Rouge stops by to have her moment with Leia. Han and Rouge have their own moments. H/L, Identity 'verse - set in the interim, between Casualty 5, and the epilogue.





	Heart of Gold.

**Author's Note:**

> just something short.

_Heart of Gold_

_7 ABY_

* * *

The lighting throughout the apartment was dim, despite it not being too late. Han was wide awake and restless, his schedule upended by odd shifts training recruits - and Leia didn't feel well, so he was attempting to make things quiet and peaceful despite being unable to go to bed yet himself. He'd usually retreat to the _Falcon_  in this situation, but he was vaguely worried about her, so he hung around. He busied himself working on her back-up blaster, which he'd noticed needed the grip replaced - and he took it apart to deep clean it, too, knowing she was going to take it with her to a delegate meeting on Onderon next month. Han didn't trust half the population of Onderon, not after the attitude they'd given Leia over Vader - their radicals could be ruthless, and Han didn't want her concealed self-defense mechanism mucked up with carbon if she needed it.

He occasionally glanced up to watch the Holo for a few minutes - it was on the channel Leia had left it on when she retreated to the bedroom, but the political round table she'd been watching had gone off, and now a film was playing - Han wasn't exactly  _watching_  it, but he was, perhaps, moderately interested in whether or not the couple in the story were going to get together -

The door chimes rang softly, and Han turned his head, narrowing his eyes. It was as if some force in the galaxy - not  _that_  Force, a different force, concerned specifically with screwing with Han Solo and Han Solo alone, had sensed him watching a romance film and sent someone to catch him at it, and mock him. He lifted his wrist and checked his chrono - late-ish, but not too late for a visit to be indecent. He frowned a little and set aside his cleaning tools, standing up to go answer the chimes lest they ring again, louder, and rouse Leia. He was pretty sure she was awake - in bed, reading - but he wanted her to have her time to herself regardless.

He checked the imagery on the keypad, and tilted his head, curious, when it identified the visitor as Rouge Organa - and Rouge alone, no Bail with her, no Winter. Han chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, and then slid his palm over the unlock access, opening the door. Rouge stood there patiently, in informal, casual attire, her hands folded neatly in front of her, and tilted her head up to greet him.

"Good evening, Han," she said, dignified as always.

"Hey," Han responded, irreverent as always.

Rouge smiled a little at that, and unfolded her hands, letting them fall to her sides. Han stepped back, moving out of the doorway, gesturing her in. Rouge followed, turning to watch while he keyed the door closed, and he nodded his head towards the living room, walking hesitantly in front of her.

"I know this is impromptu," Rouge said mildly. "I hope I haven't disturbed you."

"Nah," Han said, stopping at the entrance to the living room and turning to her, crossing his arms. He arched a brow curiously. "You fly yourself here?" he asked, amused - he had never known Rouge to fly herself anywhere; he wasn't even sure she had a speeder license.

"Hardly," Rouge sighed, a wry look crossing her face. "Miss Verlaine and I were returning from a Diaspora event," she explained. "I asked that she drop me off."

"Is Evaan waiting? She want to come up?"

"Oh no, no," Rouge placated. "She went along. Winter will come fetch me - I notified her. I won't be long."

Han nodded, watching her when the silence fell. He arched his brows again, waiting, and then cleared his throat -

"So, uh," he started, unsure why she was here - unless Leia was expecting her, and forgotten to tell him.

"Is Leia around?" Rouge asked. "I had hoped to speak with her."

She clasped her hands in front of her again, hesitating.

"I haven't had a moment with her since the two of you returned from Corellia," she told him. "Not a meaningful one. I've  _wanted_  one, but I'm aware she has been settling back in, and I suspected she preferred not to be suffocated with sympathetic attention."

Hen tilted his head, taken aback. He nodded. He hesitated -

"S'kind of a mix," he said finally. "Don't think she wants people to mention it, but I don't think she wants people to  _not_  mention it," he said - and then grimaced, as if that sounded silly.

Rouge didn't seem to think so.

"Precisely," she agreed pleasantly.

She turned her head, looking into the living room - at the holo screen, then the mess of tools and broken down blaster on the table. She noted a pair of boots on the floor, a blanket on the table, the remnants of the headdress Leia had worn today at a cultural celebration of the Naboo discarded in an armchair. Her lips pursed thoughtfully, and she looked back at Han.

"Is she here?" Rouge repeated.

Han nodded.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "She's," he gestured down the hall. "Lemme see if she's up - she wasn't feelin' good," he said.

"Is she alright?"

"Think so," Han said uncertainly - Leia hadn't been specific -

_I'm going to lie down, Han. I don't feel well._

_What kind of sick?_

_I don't know. My head hurts. I think I'm sad._

He cleared his throat, nodding again.

"Lemme check," he offered again, starting past Leia's aunt. Rouge turned, and touched his elbow, giving him a stern look.

"Don't wake her if she's asleep," she ordered.

Han grinned, shaking her hand off loosely.

"Wouldn't," he assured her seriously.

He went down the hall quietly, peeking into their bedroom - the door was open, and the reading lamps, as well as the 'fresher lights, were on in their dimmest mode. Leia was curled up in bed, leaning against a mount of pillows, scrolling through her personal datapad. Up by her shoulder, neatly perched on the pillow, Zozy was curled up and snoozing, his feathered tail brushing Leia's shoulder. She looked up when she sensed him in the doorway, and lifted her chin. Han took a few steps into the room.

"Is someone here?" she asked thickly, dissolving into a yawn as she spoke.

Zozy lifted his head at the sound, his ears perking up when he saw Han.

"Rouge," Han answered. "You up for her?" he asked, more quietly, making a show of checking over his shoulder surreptitiously, in case she was listening.

Leia smiled. She lifted one shoulder, and nodded.

"Let her in here, though," she murmured. "I don't want to get up."

"Still feel bad?"

Leia nodded.

"It's lingering anemia, I think," she offered, tilting her head back. "Not back to normal yet."

"Take your time," Han said.

She sat up a little, and Zozy stretched, rolling over and traipsing down the bed a little, wagging his tail and peering at Han with interest. Han gestured at her datapad.

"What're you doing?"

She turned it around in her hands, and he could see images peppering the screen - he squinted, trying to identify them, and Leia smirked wryly.

"I'm reading the gossip forums about us."

"Ah," Han said. "What are we doing now?"

"Getting divorced."

"Again?"

"Mmhmm."

"What did I do this time?"

"Nothing, this time I slept with Winter."

Han affected a shocked look.

"How could you?"

Leia shrugged tiredly.

"Have you seen her tits?" she joked.

Han sighed. He folded his arms, grinned, and then jerked his head back, turning on his heel to go get Rouge.

"Brace yourself," he warned smugly, and Leia rolled her eyes good-naturedly, an indulgent smile on her face.

Han made his way back down the hall, and found Rouge had migrated into the living room more fully, standing there with her neat, perfect posture and watching the film a little absently. Han narrowed his eyes at the back of her head, and strolled forward, clearing his throat - Rouge turned at the sound, and smiled, gesturing at the screen.

"Funny," she remarked, arching a brow. "Bail was watching this film yesterday."

Han glared at her.

"'M not  _watchin'_  it, it's just  _on_."

"Well, alright," Rouge placated, as if talking to a small child. "If you say so." She gestured at the screen. "The actress, Sessalee Vayga - lovely woman," she said, "a very close friend of my elder sister, Tia."

Han tilted his head, interested. Rouge said nothing else, looking around for a moment, her brow furrowed.

"You live quietly here, don't you?" she murmured. "You and Leia."

Han continued to just look at her, and Rouge sighed, turning to him.

"What I mean is - previously, in the palace...there was always rustle, always - people," she explained. "Servants, activity - diplomacy and duty even in late hours," she trailed off. "This is radically different. So - "

"Low class?"

"No," Rouge corrected. "I was going to say - secluded," she offered.

She narrowed her eyes, critically thoughtful.

"I can appreciate Leia's attraction to it, after the burden she carried growing up."

Han tapped his elbow with a few fingers, amused. He nodded.

"Well," he drawled, deadpan, "I try to make it as common as I can."

Rouge smiled at him wryly, and then held her hand out, palm up, towards the hall.

"May I?"

Han nodded.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "She's up - says go on in there," he said.

Rouge nodded, and started past him. Han glanced after her, and then, thinking twice, turned to follow, a little wary of Rouge's late night visit - he didn't think she posed any emotional danger to Leia, not in the least - and at least, not on purpose. He dogged her footsteps for a moment, until Rouge turned around and he almost bumped into her. He kept his face composed, staring at her defiantly, and to his surprise, Rouge smiled, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder calmly.

"Han," she said steadily. "I have no intention of upsetting her."

Han shrugged.

"I believe you," he said gruffly, without budging.

Rouge compressed her lips in understanding.

"I know that I have a tendency to make comments that...are unsettling and," she sighed, "callous," she decided, her jaw stiffening briefly as she reflected on the more aristocratic, unthinking remarks she had made that inadvertently hurt Leia, diminished Han, or in some way or another were flippant, elitist, and even unkind. "This is different."

Han said nothing, and Rouge drew her hand back.

"We're familiar with this kind of pain, Han," she said, in that same calm, introspective voice. "Breha was not just the Queen, not  _just_  my brother's wife, she was my sister-in-law," Rouge offered, "and I cared for her as fiercely as I cared for the sisters of my own blood. We talked often, and we mourned often. You can trust me," she paused, and then arched a brow, "and I am exercising quite a bit of self-control to view your overbearing need to protect Leia from me as sweet, rather than irritating," she added, a slight - only slight -edge of amusement creeping into her tone.

Letting that sink in, Han took a few steps back. He stood still and watched as Rouge inclined her head respectfully, and continued her sojourn into the master bedroom. Assuaged, but still wary, Han followed her after a moment, sidling into the doorway to look in and observe for a moment. He watched Rouge enter, sit down on the bed next to Leia, and lean forward to hug her. Leia's response was mild, but warm; Rouge placed her hand on the back of Leia's, saying something in her ear, from what Han could tell - and Leia leaned forward and hugged her more tightly, pressing her face affectionately into her aunt's shoulder.

Tilting his head, Han watched only a moment longer and then gave a short, quiet whistle, summoning Zozy. The mooka leapt off the bed and happily trotted to Han, content to go with him while Leia visited. Satisfied that Leia was up to a conversation with Rouge, and a little sympathy over what they'd just lost, Han retreated back to the living room – to the film playing aimlessly in the background, and his business with the blaster.

He was a little curious about what Rouge might have to say to Leia. Never married or, as far as Han knew or could tell, significantly attached to anyone, her only experience with what Leia had been through would be an outsider's observation of Breha's suffering. Perhaps, though, Rouge had been closer to Leia's mother than Han understood, and did have some things to say. He figured Leia would appreciate any comfort her aunt attempted, regardless of if it resonated or not. She was still unsteadily reclaiming her normal daily routine after their return from Corellia, that was evident, and that often meant walking a fine line between moving on, as much as possible, without neglecting the obvious bewilderment and sadness they were both still feeling.

Zozy scrambled up on the sofa with Han, chirped once, and then took a flying leap onto the table and scattered blaster parts everywhere, scooping the handle of Leia's into his mouth mischievously and turning to face Han with it, his ears flattening back playfully.

Han glared at him -

"Drop it," he growled, sitting forward with a scowl to try and re-gather everything that had just been upended.

Zozy,  _not_  dropping it at all, pounced on his hands as they moved, and then gave an excited, muffled chirp every time Han paused to look up and glare at him, his feathered tail swishing primly. He sat down on his haunches, the grip still clutched between his teeth, and cocked his head. Han just looked back at him dubiously - and then lunged forward and grabbed him, flipping him over and holding him like a baby so Zozy wriggled in excitement, but couldn't escape. He extricated the grip from the little guy's mouth and then tossed it on the table, shaking his head.

"Behave," Han ordered. "Or I'll make you go sit with Rouge," he threatened - Zozy was scared of Rouge; the first time she had met him, he'd attempted to nibble her fingers, which he did with all people he considered friendly, in order to mark them, and Rouge had smacked him on the nose. Leia hadn't been angry; she'd forgotten to explain that Zozy's bites were essentially toothless, but Zozy no longer considered Rouge a potential playmate.

Loosening his grip a little, Han leaned back, holding Zozy in his lap and staring at the holo without really focusing on it. He listened, as if he could hear anything going on back there in the master bedroom - though twice, he heard the faint sound of Leia's laughter, and that intrigued him. Absently, he scratched Zozy behind the ears - he wondered if Bail knew Rouge had decided to stop by. Leia said she'd had a long talk with her father a few days ago, and come away from it with even more respect for her mother than she could have imagined.

 _She was just so incredible, and so brave, and that's why I_ am _going to do the Christening. I don't mind how much it hurts._

By his guess, it was maybe half an hour Rouge was in there with Leia before she came back, the same calm, thoughtful expression on her face. Zozy spotted her, hunkered down, and peeked menacingly over Han's forearm at her - and Rouge returned the look with a somewhat upturned nose.

"I cannot believe that creature is allowed  _in_ the bed with you two," Rouge sniffed.

"Aww, Rouge," Han drawled, flashing a wolfish grin, "only when we're sleepin'."

He lifted his brows suggestively, and Rouge gave him a pinched look.

"Your veiled references to copulation are hardly as scandalous under the auspices of marriage," she informed him, "considering it's perfectly commonplace in the institution."

Han arched a brow at her, tilting his head.

"I'm impressed," he snorted.

"Are you?" Rouge retorted. "With what?"

"You just made sex sound like it's some boring nuisance."

"As I'm sure it is, with you."

Han reared back incredulously, staring at Leia's aunt in abject disbelief. Had she just - had Rouge Organa - stood right there in his living room and - taken a dig at his manhood? He stared, unable to decide if he was deeply offended, or delighted, and she betrayed no emotion as she lifted her chin, her eyes boring into his sharply.

"'M gonna tell Leia you said that," Han threatened.

"I should like to see you convince her I did," Rouge answered plainly, crossing her arms.

She stood for a moment, looking blithely at the holo, and Han glared at her profile, struck with the genius of it - she was right, he'd never convince anyone she had indulged in a somewhat vulgar mockery of him, and Han would probably drive himself insane  _trying_  to convince anyone of it - fascinated, he shook his head; Rouge probably had the ability to be a scathing political tactician, if she'd ever seen fit to engage herself in Leia and Bail's world, rather than the world of high society and late afternoon teas.

He didn't even feel like he could argue, without scandalizing Rouge, so he sat there, musing over the fact that she had just handed him his ass in a short verbal sparring match, and considered that Leia might have inherited her vivacious tongue from a less obvious source than her father. He was still sitting in silence when she came forward, sat down gingerly on the arm of the sofa, and clasped her hands on her knee.

"Hey, Rouge," Han said. "You can sit on the whole sofa."

"Thank you," she said. "Winter will arrive shortly, I'm sure."

Han arched his brows, and shrugged, still scratching Zozy's ears to keep him contently situated in his lap. He glanced between Rouge and the holo and then, overwhelmed with curiosity, finally ventured -

"You and Leia have a good chat?"

He winced, thinking it sounded a bit awkward, but Rouge did not seem to share that opinion.

"We did," she said. She turned and peered at Han pensively. "She says you've been an invaluable comfort to her. _I_ am impressed with that," she said. "Bail was...insensitive, with Breha, the first time," she said, matter-of-fact. "It took some time for him to see how her perspective differed from his."

Han shifted uncomfortably, unfamiliar with blatant praise from Rouge. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well," he grunted. "Had the Viceroy's advice to fall back on," he said, hedging a little - he hadn't had any grand education in what to do; much of his response had come from building on information derived from Bail's personal experiences.

"Yes, I assumed," Rouge said, "but a prouder man might not have sought that advice," she went on, and then paused, amending the statement: "in this case by proud, I mean arrogant. I do not meant to insinuate you are, um," she blinked, fumbling a little. "Well, surely you know what I mean, Han."

He nodded.

"Sure, Rouge," he said.

Rouge was quiet for a long time, and then she spoke again, catching Han off guard.

"You love Leia," she said, looking down at her palms. "Much more sincerely than an aristocrat likely would have - someone we would have considered 'proper'," she went on. "Much more...honestly, and with much more authenticity." Rouge looked up to hold his gaze, her expression piercing. "I've always been suspicious of that," she reflected. "Resentful, even. The narrative of a scoundrel with a hidden heart of gold," she clicked her tongue sharply, "does not always ring true."

Han tilted his head at her, distinctly suspicious that she was speaking personally. Winter and Leia had speculated on possible torrid events in Rouge's past, teasing and joking, always curious but never insolent enough to pry, and Han had often wondered the same. Was Rouge's rigid adherence to the conservatism and propriety of aristocratic custom a manifestation of inherent prudery, or had she turned to it for solace, to shield her against the sorrow of something that had hurt her in her youth? If she had once bucked tradition only to be badly disillusioned, rather than freed from restraint, her fierce protection of a golden cage of a world made sense.

Bail was often supremely tolerant of his sister's attitudes, and that, too, left Han wondering what Bail knew that others did not - though he assumed whatever it was, if it was anything, it was not spoken of at Rouge's behest, and that was her business.

He stayed silent, waiting for more, but Rouge seemed to be done. She cleared her throat, and then tilted her head at him.

"How are you?" she asked. "You must have been excited, as well."

Han's hand moved slowly over Zozy's snout. His lips turned up in a half-smile. He considered telling her that for the better part of most days, he felt guilty, and anxious, because of the carbon in his bone marrow, and the devastating way it had affected Leia, but he didn't remark on that at all, just nodded smoothly.

"'M good," he said. "Thanks."

His hand came to a stop, and he stood up, lifting Zozy off his lap, and brushing his hands off on his pants. He beckoned to her, pointing towards the entrance hall.

"C'mon," he said gruffly. "I'll walk you down," he offered.

Rouge considered it a moment, and then stood - accepting. Han grinned at her, strolling towards the door.

"You got to get a speeder license, you know," he advised her smugly.

"Are you offering to provide me with flying lessons?" she sniffed.

"Me? Hell no. I don't want to die. I got things to do. Get Bail to teach you."

"Bail?" scoffed Rouge, coming to a stop opposite Han at the door. " _Bail_ ," she repeated, shaking her head, "had so many driver error tickets on Alderaan there was a fine named after him."

 _"Really?"_  Han asked gleefully.

"You did not hear so from me," Rouge chastised.

Han opened the door, on the verge of laughing, and found Winter already there, hand on the keypad.

"Ah," she said. "Excellent timing - Aunt Rouge," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You might have warned me earlier you wanted to stop by and see Leia," Winter grumbled. "I was at Tycho's."

"It's quite late at the evening for a chaste young lady to be dallying," Rouge retorted, and Han smirked - that sounded like the Rouge he had come to know.

Winter responded with a wide-eyed, offended look.

"There was a chaste young lady at Tycho's?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "Why, I'm going to kill him."

Rouge rolled her eyes, and compressed her lips, turning to Han. She reached out, touched his elbow, and then leaned forward, rising up to give him a matronly peck on the cheek. Giving him one more squeeze on the arm, she stepped over the threshold towards Winter, and Winter gave Han a fascinated look, pursing her lips - Han shrugged wordlessly.

"Leia's well?" Winter asked.

Han merely nodded, and Winter gave him a salute, looping her arm through Rouge's and steering her down the hall - standing there in the doorway to watch them go, Han smirked as he overheard their conversation, fading as they turned the corner -

_"You might practice more discretion, Winter; there's a love mark on your neck."_

_"It's a curling iron burn."_

Han keyed the door shut, grinning, and dragged his feet back into the sitting room. Zozy, in his absence, had sprung back onto the table and was terrorizing the pieces of Leia's disassembled blaster, and Han gave him a mildly annoyed look before marching over and grabbing him off the table with one hand. He glared directly into the pup's eyes, silently commanding obedience, and Zozy wilted a little, his tongue darting out apologetically. Satisfied, Han sat down, and released him.

Zozy inched up against Han's thigh, flopped down, and gave a soft chirp. Han sat back, contemplating what had just happened, and was considering getting back to work when Leia shuffled in. She moseyed over to the sofa, collapsed down next to him, and curled up against his side, pressing her head into his shoulder until he lifted his arm and put it around her. She sighed, closing her eyes, and Han turned to press a few kisses to her temple, running his hand over her arm.

After a little while, Han figured it wouldn't hurt to ask - if Leia didn't want to tell him, she'd just decline -

"What'd Rouge have to say?"

Leia took a deep breath. She shifted her head, reaching out to run her hand over Han's thigh.

"She mostly told me stories about Mama's first year with me," she answered huskily. "Nice little stories," she murmured. "You would think that might be...upsetting, but it wasn't," she said. "It made me feel close to her. Braver," she said, "knowing how happy Mama was to have me, after everything. It's emboldening."

Han held her tighter for a moment, and then relaxed his grip. He rested his chin on her head.

"You know," Leia ventured. "I get the feeling Aunt Rouge wanted to have children. She relates, in her own way. Peripherally."

Han shifted, slouching down a little.

"Get the feelin' there's a lot more to ol' Rouge than she lets on," he offered.

"Mmhmm," Leia murmured.

Han laughed under his breath.

"Rouge told me I was bad in bed," he informed her.

Leia snorted quietly.

"Whatever you say, Han," she answered skeptically, and Han smirked; Rouge's triumph was complete.

She slid her hand between his legs and let it rest there comfortably, snuggling up - she felt better than she had earlier, and was glad Han was still up. He leaned over, wrapped his other arm around her, and turned closer, entangling her in an embrace there on the couch - it was a process, getting through it, still a process - and it was soothing to know Leia had even more support she could count on, given the ups and downs still to come.

**Author's Note:**

> oooh, whispers of Rouge's backstory. 
> 
> -alexandra


End file.
